THE COLLECTOR 2

THE COLLECTOR When art comes and seduces me, it transports me to a space where I am to collect. Meanings and words descend on the paper, as if the pencil itself had life, able to transmute. It arranges, frames, puts in order, alone. I, do nothing. I am just there. And then when the pencil stops writing, relief fills me. I turn back to the common, the meaningless, the unnecessary many times, but these too pay for my time. I do nothing else but collect. I become a means for light to live in the world. Nothing belongs to me, only sharing.